


imperfect reflections

by screechfox



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 03, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/screechfox
Summary: All Jon wants is to take a smoke break in peace.





	imperfect reflections

**Author's Note:**

> idk, i just wanted to write elias and jon chatting and smoking. i had to google what it feels like to smoke for this.
> 
> one of these days i'll write a TMA fic that has more than two characters in a scene at once.

There’s probably a lot of reasons Jon doesn’t manage to quit smoking, but in the end, it comes down to this: the familiar taste and motions soothe something deep in his soul. With the way his life is going, he needs _something_ soul-soothing, and it isn’t as though he has anything better to spend his disposable income on.

He stands in an alley next to the Institute. It’s where he’s come to smoke since starting as a researcher; it’s quieter than the favoured smoking area for Institute staff, and there’s less passersby to send him dirty looks. The sounds of London traffic are muted, and for a few minutes every day, he can pretend he’s alone.

“May I join you?”

Jon startles, almost dropping his cigarette. He hadn’t heard Elias approach, but there he is, standing at the entrance to the alley. In the smooth lines of his pristine suit, he looks utterly out of place among the dirt and rubbish.

It doesn’t stop Elias from smiling, a thin crescent of white teeth in bloodless lips. The expression doesn’t reach the ice-shard coolness of his eyes.

Jon exhales. Smoke curls into the air between them, obscuring his view.

“Can I stop you?”

“There’s no need for the bitterness, Jon.” Apparently taking his response as assent, Elias approaches, leaning against the wall next to him. “We _are_ colleagues, after all.”

Jon feels a sour laugh rise up in his throat like bile.

“Oh, is _that_ what you call it?”

“Do you have a better word for our relationship?”

“Slave and slavedriver, maybe?”

Elias laughs, and it sounds just as humourless as Jon’s. 

“Hardly. There is very little I have forced you to do that you wouldn’t have chosen yourself.” Jon raises his eyebrows, and Elias shakes his head. “You have been set on this path all your life, Jon. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move past these pointless hostilities.”

“What do you want, Elias?”

Elias shivers, his eyes going fever-bright for a single, flickering second. The sharpness of his smile morphs into something gentler. If Jon didn’t know better, he might even call it fond.

“You’re making a lot of progress very fast, Jon.”

“Oh, good for me,” Jon mutters. He raises his cigarette to his lips, letting the taste of tar and nicotine blot out the static on his tongue. “What do you _want?_ ”

“Can’t I just want to talk to you?” There’s a faux-innocence to the airy weight of Elias’ tone, as if they really are two normal colleagues in a normal job. Still, his lips have quirked in a steel-tinged amusement, so Elias isn’t pretending _that_ hard not to be smug. 

Good. Jon knows where he stands with Elias’ smugness.

“No.”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I do care about you in a personal capacity.”

Jon snorts, not even bothering to dignify that with a response. Elias sighs, as though Jon is being unreasonable. There’s a certain weariness to the cast of his face, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes suddenly more obvious.

“Just because I prefer to _appear_ detached doesn’t mean that I’m immune to the odd touch of emotion here and there. Especially in, ah, special cases.”

He motions to Jon with a graceful gesture, like a conductor to an orchestra. Jon feels at once irritated and flattered, then irritated with _himself_ for being pleased by anything Elias says.

“What happened to not having friends?”

“Well, no one said I was above a little hypocrisy now and then.” Elias exhales, the subtlest of smiles gracing his face. “We are all, by nature, imperfect reflections of what we serve.” 

“Even you?”

“Yes, even me.” Elias’ tone dips low with amusement and exasperation in equal measure. “I hate to shatter your comfortable illusion that I am somehow the Eye incarnate, but rest assured, I am as human as you are, Jon.”

That obviously isn’t comforting, but all retorts dry up on Jon’s tongue as Elias holds out a hand. 

“May I?”

The sensible answer would be no, but Jon wordlessly passes his cigarette to Elias. He couldn’t tell you why. Curiosity, maybe? It’s always curiosity, nowadays.

It's a genuine surprise when Elias raises it to his lips and takes a long drag. Somehow, he’d expected Elias to crush it underfoot without a single thought. It seems in character for the composed force of nature that is Elias, believing he knows what’s best for everyone and everything. Surely his Archivist getting lung cancer would really put a dampener on whatever plans he has going.

Elias exhales. The fabric of his suit wrinkles as his shoulders drop, an echo of the chemical relaxation Jon feels in his uncoiling in his bones.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve indulged this particular vice. You’re drawing me back into bad habits, Jon.” His free hand runs through the grey of his hair, and there’s that out of character tiredness to his expression again.

If it were anyone else, Jon would make an awkward attempt to reach out and comfort them, maybe even try and empathise. As it is, this is Elias, and all Jon has is spite.

"From what I've read, it's not your usual choice of recreational substance."

Elias’ eyes widen in genuine surprise. Then he grins, wide and delighted and far too friendly for Jon's liking. Someone who didn't _know_ Elias might even call the expression boyish. It sends a frisson of discomfort down Jon's spine.

_“Well,”_ Elias says, in a tone of warm amusement. “So _that’s_ what you found when you looked into me — records of my misspent youth.”

He takes another drag, then passes the cigarette back to Jon without a second thought, as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. Jon lets it hang loosely between his knuckles, not entirely sure he wants to smoke it anymore.

“You weren’t watching?”

Elias waves a dismissive hand, still looking at Jon with a clear mixture of amusement and pride.

“You weren’t going to stumble onto anything incriminating, so I left you to your own devices.”

“So there’s something incriminating to find?” It slips out before Jon can help it.

“Of course there is,” Elias says, the reply immediate. _Too_ immediate. His eyes narrow with an irritation that doesn’t seem to be directed at Jon. The expression is quickly subdued by that rich, indulgent smile. “Perhaps one day I’ll even tell you.”

There’s words unspoken there, hanging in the air. Elias will tell him, _if_ Jon can pull the answers out of him. A bargaining chip — get closer to the Eye, and get the answers you seek. 

Jon feels an odd sense of relief. Thank goodness this isn’t Elias _actually_ trying to bond with him. It’s just another attempt at manipulation, comforting in its familiarity if annoying in its frequency. He wants answers, but not _that_ much. Not now. Not yet.

He raises his cigarette back to his lips and takes one more drag before letting it fall to the floor.

The prickling sensation of being watched only increases, skimming across the surface of his mind. Elias’ smile thins back into something much more familiar, full of irritation like Jon is a child who is misbehaving.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll punch you,” Jon mutters, but he can’t summon much heat. He’s long since become used to having no privacy; the only thing that’s different here is that he knows exactly what’s looking at him. The Eye is terrifying in its intensity, but at least it doesn’t have a smug smile and a condescending attitude.

“I’m sure you will,” Elias drawls. “Now, I believe your break is over, and you have a statement to record. Care to accompany me inside?” Elias steps away from the wall and towards the mouth of the alley.

“Are you going to fire me if I overrun on my break?”

“Jon.”

“Right, right. Fine. I’m coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at [screechfoxes](https://screechfoxes.tumblr.com) on tumblr! come and chat with me!


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